


Desert Breakdown

by bethctg



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-17
Updated: 2007-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2487800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethctg/pseuds/bethctg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House and Wilson pass the time while waiting for a tow truck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desert Breakdown

Wilson tried the ignition again and when the car refused to start, he let out a most impressive blue streak of curses.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," House said. 

The rental sedan had picked exactly the right time to break down on them: just as they had entered the middle of nowhere, which – even better – just happened to be located in the middle of the desert. 

Wilson sighed, and turned to give House an expectant look. 

House glanced theatrically over his right shoulder, as if to catch sight of whomever Wilson was looking at, and then pointed to himself. "Who? _Me_? Didn't you just shriek at me last week when I tried to fix that thingy on the dishwasher?" 

"You were using a butter knife." 

"It was handy." 

"You scratched the _hell_ out of the front panel - " 

" - Besides, this is all your fault," House talked over him while digging into the pocket of his jeans. 

"Because I used my super secret powers to make the engine die?" Wilson speculated in confusion. 

"You were the one that had to drive into the desert to watch the damn sun set. We could have done that from the hotel room. Now we're gonna die out here." House dry swallowed a tablet. "I hope you're happy." 

Wilson scoffed at him, but not entirely without affection. "My phone?" He gestured toward the glove compartment. "Please?" 

House opened the panel, then rooted around until he'd found Wilson's phone, and tossed it to him much harder than necessary. 

"Thanks, sweetheart," Wilson deadpanned. 

House didn't respond; instead, he pressed his ear buds into his ears, turned up his mp3 player, and leaned back. Turning his head to the side, he looked out upon a brush-filled vista that was dotted with countless cactus plants. Bright orange flowers broke up the landscape with shocking color, and far off in the distance, a craggy mountain range rose majestically along the skyline.

Just after the car had sputtered to a stop, Wilson had let the windows down, anticipating the lack of power. Now, a light breeze flowed through them, bringing with it the not-unpleasant mixture of the smell of sage and dust. House closed his eyes and took in a few deep breaths.

Over the bluesy guitar riff coming through his headphones, he could hear Wilson phoning for a tow truck. While the fear of dying in the desert wasn't a real one (after all, he'd spent years of his life in far more dangerous places than this), his annoyance with Wilson was sincere. House hadn't wanted to come on this vacation in the first place, and he was still feeling slightly unnerved by the ease with which Wilson had talked him into it. And it wasn't just this trip. House sat there looking back over two years filled with scores of disturbing examples of Wilson somehow managing to get his way, and he decided right then that enough was enough. From now on, Wilson could go fuck himself. Literally. 

"She says they're a little backed up, so it could be about an hour," Wilson said loudly, snapping his phone shut. Even though House didn't acknowledge the announcement verbally, the subsequent eye-roll told Wilson that he had heard him. Wilson also knew that House was angry, but he didn't care. For some crazy reason, Wilson found House sexiest when he was sulking; and the way he was sitting there right now, with the almost visible waves of annoyance rolling off of him, his jaw clenched tensely… Wilson nearly laughed aloud, and his lips twitched with the effort of holding back a grin. 

The next thing House knew, Wilson was pawing at his shoulder. "Get off," he muttered, jerking away. 

"That's what I'm trying to do," Wilson said calmly. He took hold of House's earphone cord, gently pulling the bud free, while simultaneously leaning in to take House's earlobe into his mouth.

House tensed, but didn't pull away. "You should probably wait until we've been stranded out here a few weeks before you try to eat me." 

Wilson chuckled, "Come on," he breathed into House's ear. "We're gonna be waiting out here for a while, might as well find _something_ to do to kill the time." 

"Speaking of killing," House began coolly, "I hope the tow truck gets to us before the coyotes do." 

Wilson sat back, abruptly. "Actually, coyotes don't really go for humans. If I were you, though, I'd worry about wolves. They tend to seek out the old and impair-" He stopped, and glared at House. "You know what? You are an ass." 

" _Me_?" House let out an incredulous laugh. "You just called me _old and impaired_!"

"Here we are, in one of the most beautiful places in the country, with nothing to do, I'm feeling horny, and all you want to do is argue!" Wilson shook his head, reached for the door handle, stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind him. 

House gave an unconcerned shrug and pushed his ear bud back in. After a few seconds, he caught sight of Wilson in his side mirror, stalking angrily down the road. He continued to watch as Wilson stopped several yards from the car and scrubbed his hands over his face, then ran them through his hair.

House found himself taking stock of what Wilson was wearing: deck shoes (no socks), faded blue jeans and a white polo shirt – tucked in, of course. Wilson had gone on a health kick lately, so his jeans were fitting in a flattering way that didn't make his stomach pooch over the waistband like it used to, and his arms were looking leaner and stronger… 

_What the hell_?, House thought, catching himself in the act of ogling Wilson. He tried to remind himself that he was angry and didn't want anything to do with Wilson, especially if Wilson might still be wanting something to do with him. He'd be damned if he'd give in to Wilson again today. He closed his eyes and turned up the volume on his iPod, which just happened to be launching into an Earth, Wind and Fire song: 

_Now, I'm craving your body,  
Is this real?  
Temperatures rising, I don't want to feel  
I'm in the wrong place to be real…_

The scowl on House's face was matched in fierceness by the yank that he gave on his headphone cord, pulling the ear buds free. _Goddamn song_. House sat there stewing for a few moments, doing some quick rationalizing. Wilson might want him, and in that sense he _would_ be getting his way, but - and this was the crucial point - House was still in charge of _when_. _Ha_!

Now was good. 

"Hey!" House called from his window. 

"What?" Wilson yelled over his shoulder, not looking back. 

"I'm ready!" 

"I can't make them get here any faster, House."

House sighed in frustration and tried again. "Not _that_! … You idiot," he added, under his breath.

Wilson walked over to the passenger side door and glared down at House in annoyance. "What?"

"Come here," House said, tugging him down by the front of his shirt. Wilson was confused for a second until he caught the lusty gleam in House's eyes.

"There is something very wrong with you," Wilson mumbled just before their mouths made contact. The kiss was a hard, hungry one, and it quickly became clear that more contact was needed. 

"There is something very wrong with _us_ ," House countered as he broke away. "Get in."

Wilson hurried around to the driver's side and got in, launching himself at House. He was on him in a second, one hand on the back of House's neck, pulling him into a deep kiss; and House went directly for Wilson's waist, hands tugging his shirt from his jeans, trying all the while to avoid smacking his elbow on the gear stick.

They both moaned softly when House's hands skimmed over Wilson's sweat-slick back. Wilson's free hand traveled up House's chest, and House growled appreciatively, pulling away and lowering his head to attack Wilson's neck.

"What... changed your mind?" Wilson gasped laughingly, dropping his head back to allow House better access.

"Oh, I don't know," House said, abandoning Wilson's neck to return to his lips. "It might have had something to do... with these jeans," he said in a low voice, palm unceremoniously grinding into the growing bulge in Wilson's lap.

The two were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't even notice the 18-wheeler approaching until it roared by, leaving their comparatively tiny sedan shuddering in its wake.

Wilson startled and jerked back. "What the - ?" He craned his head over his seatback and watched the truck speed down the road.

"That's called a truck," House said, mildly irritated. "Now - where were we? Oh, yes, my hand was in your lap." He reached for Wilson, but Wilson held him off.

"House, maybe we should stop…"

"Are you kidding me? _Now_?" He gestured to his own tented jeans.

"Exactly. We're completely out in the open."

House resisted the urge to kill him, as that would most assuredly ruin the mood. "Wilson," he spoke calmly, "this was _your_ idea. And that was the first vehicle we've seen in half an hour. There is _nobody_ out here."

"Nobody except trucks, families vacationing in minivans, police cruisers..." Wilson rattled off.

"Oh, jeez, don't get hysterical."

"I'm not hysterical. You're the one who's hysterical, worrying about coyotes eating you."

"At least _somebody_ would be eating me!"

Wilson shot House a half-glance of fond annoyance and settled into his seat with a sigh, trying to get his body back under control.

After glaring intently at Wilson failed to set him on fire literally or figuratively, House grudgingly acknowledged that the moment had passed. "It's too hot to fuck anyway," he said, leaning back and lazily draping his arm out of the window. "Do we have any water left?"

Wilson handed him the still-sweating plastic bottle of spring water that had been sitting in the dashboard cup holder, and House took a few long swallows. When he'd had enough, he passed the bottle back to Wilson and picked up his mp3 player.

Wilson took a drink, and sat quietly watching House. After a bit, he reached over to pull one of House's ear buds out.

"Oh, god, now what?" House asked.

"I'm bored," Wilson told him, pushing the tiny speaker into his own ear.

"You're throwing off my stereo sound," House grumbled, but he let him keep it anyway.

Things were going along fine until Wilson attempted to air drum.

"What...?" House began, perplexed, "… are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" Wilson asked, still flailing away.

"It looks like you're having a seizure," House told him. He watched him with horrified curiosity for a few more measures and then asked: "What song are you _listening_ to?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "What are you, the rhythm police?" He added a flourish with one wrist - just for the hell of it.

House couldn't take it anymore. "Give me those!" He snatched the invisible sticks from Wilson's hands and began giving a demonstration of how he felt the song should be played.

With exaggerated motions, Wilson pantomimed reaching into his back pocket for a second pair of drumsticks, holding House's gaze with defiant eyes the entire time. They finished off the song together, even though it _did_ appear that they were following along to two completely different drumbeats. When the song was over, Wilson gave House his ear bud back, and they each settled into their own seats, waiting quietly for the tow truck, thankful for the desert breeze that drifted in through the open windows.

Wilson had just closed his eyes for what seemed like a few moments when he felt House poking him none too gently. "Hey," House near-shouted over his music, "there's that sunset you risked our lives for."

If that had been the truth, then the view of this horizon would actually have been worth it. Wilson opened his eyes to the most breathtaking sunset he'd ever seen, all fiery reds and golden yellows melding together with the wide swath of deep blue that heralded the oncoming evening. The dying rays of the sun made striking patterns as they played about the strange silhouettes of the tall cacti. Wilson reached for House's hand just as two headlights approached in the distance. It was the tow truck, at last.

"About fucking time," House grunted, giving Wilson's hand a quick squeeze. "I _know_ I just heard a coyote."

Wilson turned to give him a well-practiced exasperated look. "Will you shut up about the fucking coyotes?" To that end, he leaned over and kissed House soundly, and when they separated, they were both grinning. Wilson got out of the car to meet the truck driver, leaving House behind to enjoy the view.


End file.
